Bluffton residents share Sept. 11 memories

Sept. 11, 2001 is a day we’ll never forget. Bluffton residents share their memories of that day.

I had lived in Brooklyn, N.Y., all my life, only about four miles from the World Trade Center. I worked in the magnificent towers for a couple of years prior to 9/11 and I have since moved to beautiful Bluffton.

The morning of 9/11, I received a phone call asking if I had heard what was happening and directed me to turn on the TV right away. I turned it on and could not believe what I was seeing even as it horribly unfolded before my eyes. It was not happening. It had to be an H.G. Wells type of thing, but then sadly the reality hit me and that was the moment I knew life would never again be the same.

The tears, the pain, the devastation, the disbelief. The disgusting smell of jet fuel burning permeating all the air around me. The neighbors waiting for word on their loved ones, praying they will get home safely, some for days, even weeks. The office paper blowing across the sky for miles, the ashes on my roof and in my yard, it was devastation as I never experienced .

The flowers and purple drapes on the firehouse around the corner, the fire trucks covered deep with soot, the candles everywhere in an action of hope and then memory. There were photographs on display of the missing, too numerous to be believed. Even in the days after when the rain had washed the ashes from my roof and soaked them into the ground, the pain never stopped.

The horror of that day constantly lingers on in my mind. Yes, I was right, life has never been the same. May the beautiful memories of the loves lost help to comfort. May we all never forget to pray for peace on Earth.

GAIL MANN

Bluffton

Sept. 11, 2001, was going to be a monumental day for me. Little did I realize how much so. I was planning on handing in my resignation from a job I had held in New York City for over ten years. My husband, David, and I had finally made the decision to relocate to the Hilton Head/Bluffton area. This was THE MOVE we had talked about for over 20 years. It was time.

After arriving at my office in midtown Manhattan from our home in Westchester County, I was anxiously awaiting the “right time” to deliver my news. Before I had an opportunity, my manager let out an expletive and raced out of his office yelling that a plane had flown into one of the towers of the World Trade Center and then he disappeared down the hallway. Shortly thereafter he called me to come watch the TV coverage of what was transpiring. A group of us sat transfixed as we tried to comprehend what we were seeing taking place a mere four miles away.

The morning was filled with anxiety, tears, speculation and rumors. We were instructed to remain in the building and away from windows. Our office had no telephone service. Finally, around 11 a.m. those who could walk home left. Those of us who relied on subways or commuter trains, neither of which were running, were left trying to figure how to leave the City that had been closed off to incoming traffic. By this time I was standing outside my building, astounded by the number of people on the streets, the bumper-to-bumper traffic going nowhere and the sounds of sirens everywhere. Looking south I could see the hovering clouds of ash and smoke as the Towers continued to burn. Seemingly out of nowhere an emergency SUV vehicle wound its way north on Lexington Avenue, a one-way street south. With its siren and horn going, this ash-covered vehicle managed to make its way through the tangle of traffic. Other than the windshield, every window on the SUV was broken. It is an image I’ll never forget.

At about 11:45 a.m. a rumor circulated that Grand Central Terminal had reopened and there would be sporadic commuter train service starting at Noon. Fortunately the Terminal was only a block away and I quickly headed there. The Departure Board showed a train to my station leaving at 12:30 p.m. Being one of the first onboard, I found it to be an extremely stressful wait. I felt like a sitting duck nervously wondering if the Terminal would be the next target. Fellow passengers loaned cell phones and were anxious to share their morning experiences. Several passengers boarded who were covered grey with ashes. It was an unnerving ride home.

That afternoon and for several days thereafter the skies were devoid of commercial air traffic. There were just the relentless and eerie sounds of military aircraft monitoring the region.

New York City became an armed zone with military personnel on every corner. In Grand Central Terminal soldiers, along with guard dogs, were everywhere. Scattered throughout the Terminal were hastily erected postings with photos of missing family members and friends accompanied by pleas for information on their whereabouts. It was a heartbreaking sight.

On September 13 my resignation was submitted without any trepidation on my part and confident we definitely were making the right decision.

Bluffton

On Sept. 10th, 2001 ... the day before the attack ... my wife and I sailed into New York Harbor after a transatlantic cruise from Southampton, England, aboard MS/Royal Princess.

The cruise director had invited me to the ship’s bridge to help him identify various New York landmarks and as we approached lower Manhattan, I took the attached photo (above). Both WTC One and WTC Two are shrouded in low-hanging clouds ... or fog ... at precisely the point where the two airliners would strike the buildings a little over 24 hours later.

Later that day as we were waiting for a plane at nearby Newark Airport, we got our final look at the World Trade Center off in the distance. We had no reason to return to Newark Airport until this past May when a group of us from Sun City took a tour of Scotland and Ireland. As I looked toward lower Manhattan on that day, the framework of the new Freedom Tower could be seen rising from lower Manhattan.

BRIAN CUDAHY

Bluffton

When most people think of the World Trade Center, they envision the Twin Towers, it was much more than that, it was a major instrument of the New York symphony. A self-contained city comprised of seven separate buildings, an international trade zone with fine commercial establishments in addition to underground eateries where trains from the New York Transit system connected people with those who rode through the tube that lied beneath the Hudson River from New Jersey. I worked in building number five for an investment firm during the graveyard shift for nearly ten years. One Friday afternoon as I sat in a nearby shoe store, I noticed several ambulances rushing toward the Center, unaware of what was happening. Later that evening, I received a call from my supervisor which told me not to report to work that night because “They” blew up the underground garage which I parked in the prior week. The year was 1993. Years later, as I reported to work at the technology company I worked for in Tarrytown (Sleepy Hollow), I noticed several members of the sales team huddled around a radio. When I asked what was happening, one of them broke the silence to announce that a plane had struck one of the towers. As I stood there, the radio announcer reported that a second plane had struck. I remember only days before thinking about the Planet of the apes film where Charlton Heston discovered the ruins of the Statue of Liberty as he rode along the beach. Was I receiving a prophetic message or was the Big Apple to experience its own Pearl Harbor? This anniversary is a memorial to a civilization whose citizen’s now rest amongst those from centuries past. I have not dared to venture upon that hallowed ground nor looked in that direction again but I will always remember that magnificent city.

TROY ASHE

Estill

I was at my job as a bookkeeper in a building specialties store. Because they know I am a private pilot, the girls at the front desk, where there was a television, cried out to me “A airplane has hit the World Trade Center!” I was watching the TV screen when the second plane hit, and I said to them “My God, that’s not an airplane. It’s an airliner.” I remember feeling sick to my stomach as the smoke and flames belched from the Towers.

Only a month earlier my husband and I had flown within a few thousand feet of those Towers as we visited friends and relatives who were police and firefighters in New York. I immediately thought of those brave people who would be running toward the explosions instead of away, because that is what they do.

I thought of my parents, survivors of the Blitz in England; of my father, an RAF glider pilot who crossed the English Channel five times and made his way back across enemy lines each time, in a split second I weighed all they had endured and survived, and I was washed with gratitude that they were both dead and did not have to see this moment. America meant so much to both of them. They did not have to see her attacked on her own ground.

KAREN WILKINS

Bluffton

The morning of Sept. 11, 2001, I was sitting at a picnic table at the Light Armored Vehicle Leader’s Course, Marine Corps Base, Camp Pendleton, Calif. It was early, so I was trying to “wake up” with a cup of coffee, a Red Bull and Gatorade. My friend, and peer, walked over to me and asked if I’d hear the World Trade Center was hit by a plane. It didn’t fully register at first, as I thought he was talking about our training for the day or that it’d been an accident.

After walking over to a radio near our staging area, the second plane had hit. We continued training, going out to the field that day for vehicle certifications. I was one of the few who had cellular phone service, and was able to let another peer make a collect call to check on his fiance who then worked at Reagan National Airport. She was OK, and couldn’t explain much, but I don’t think we wanted to know.

I managed to make it off base that evening and watched the footage for hours at another friend and peer’s home, before returning to base the next day with an access restriction that was to last at all the military installations I entered, thereafter, for the next three years of my career to go along with a non-stop cycle of deployments for nearly every military peer I know.

I think 9/11 cast a shroud of perpetual uncertainty over two entire generations; mine, which is X, and the Millennials who have followed. That shroud was finally lifted for me on the night of May 1, 2011, when President Obama announced that our Special Forces had killed Osama bin Laden, a peace I believe every service member fights for.

My life, and those of so many others, changed so much; yet, very much stayed the same by the grace of God. I thank my family, friends, peers, mentors, and more for continual love and support as I reintegrated into mainstream society. I hope our nation continues to heal, together, and rebuilds our nation together so our brothers and sisters have something as stable as what I was blessed to come home to. Semper Fi.

KENT FLETCHER

Bluffton

On Sept. 11th, my flight departed JFK for Berlin at 5 a.m. I was on the way to visit relatives in Germany. Over the Atlantic the pilot announced simply, “The World Trade Center is burning.”

Over the next weeks and months I became more concerned as each new fact became known. You see, 25 years earlier I had lived and worked with Muslims in Indonesia. They were friendly, kind and helpful. I met their families and discussed religion with them. I could not bring myself to accept that the 9/11 terrorists were Muslim until the letter written by the lead hijacker, Mohamed Atta, was published.

Atta’s letter proved to the world that the attackers were not only Muslim, but devout Muslims. He quoted the Qur’an and told his brothers in the faith that their decision to die as martyrs fighting in the cause of Allah was right and good. I knew then that I could not rest until I understood what motivated them. None of my Indonesian Muslim friends could have committed such an act. No media outlet, government report, book or internet posting explained why the attackers committed suicide just to murder non-Muslims. And I had to know.

And so I began what turned out to be six years of research and analysis on the beliefs and practices of Muslims and the history of Islamic expansion. After learning exactly why 9/11 happened I felt compelled to expose the truth: world domination is a core tenet of Islam; peer pressure is immense; death is the penalty for not supporting the global jihad and death is the penalty for abandoning Islam. Even more surprising are the reasons why most Muslims refuse to fight.

Ex-Muslims and missionaries to Islamic states reviewed my manuscript. All agreed with my methods and conclusions and encouraged me to publish. My book, The Heart of Islam was released in February 2011. It is fact-based, well-documented and a quick read. It has taken most of my time since 9/11, and I have no regrets.

Bluffton

At home in Bluffton, I recall hearing the announcement

of the attack and viewing tv as the first plane hit the Trade Center. It resulted in an immediate reliving of the shock and disbelief I experienced back in Dec. 7, 1941 and Japan’s surprise attack. I imagined this would be another historical event for America to remember as much as the

Lusitania, the Alamo and Pearl Harbor.

The lack of concern for innocent lives, many of which were not American and almost all of which were not military individuals, was more than appalling. To my mind the perpetrators had achieved nothing other than to identify themselves as murderers while debasing the Muslin religion before the entire world’s other beliefs — mostly Christian.

Ten years of war and personal soul searching has .done little to lessen my initial reaction. A few years ago I wrote “We Were There!” and offer it as testimony to the fact that Sept. 11 was not then — and never shall be — a victory for radical Muslims. This is still the way I feel:

WE WERE THERE

Our thoughts were there the day they died

when hellish fire rained from the sky

In disbelief we turned to prayer

as we watched in horror and despair

Henceforth we never shall forget

those ruthless hearts which must bear the debt

of murderers who like rabid beasts

upon innocents their vile wrath released

Zealots! The martyrdom you sought that day

was attained alone by the lives you stole away.

You cry ‘God is great’ that is without doubt

And that same great God shall spit you out !

Those martyred souls remain today

Within our hearts each time we pray

Zealots beware. You’re doomed to fail

God’s love you defamed shall in truth prevail

May He bless the martyred victims

May He heal and bless America

THOMPSON EVERINGHAM

Bluffton

I was in the corridor of a pricey hotel in Monterey, Calif., about to check out. People were gathered around TV sets. “What’s going on?”

“Planes hit the World Trade Center and the towers fell.”

“Oh, you have the wrong building”, said I, the New York cynic said, “You mean a different building.”

The man said nothing and simply outstretched his arm toward the TV. I was horrified by what I saw and sank to my knees. I thought of my son, who could have, possibly, gone to “the city” to meet with his two friends, brothers John & Paul. I was beyond relieved to hear his voice. But he was in great distress; although he was able to reach John who managed to escape before the towers fell, no one had heard from Paul. Paul was employed by Cantor Fitzgerald and he was one of the 700 employees lost.

John, devastated, bewildered and in shock walked from Manhattan to his Babylon, Long Island, home, reaching there about 6 p.m. covered in his brother’s ashes. Paul’s remains have not been identified and are lost forever from his mother, brothers and sisters, wife and three children, the last child born one month after that horrific day.

The 10th anniversary means a couple of things to me. First, I must say that as horrified as I was, I was also not surprised at an attack on New York.

The terrorists struck those buildings before, they struck the Cole ship and there were other attacks on the U.S. I, in fact, partially blame ourselves and our careless system for not being more diligent in protecting us. Of course, had restrictions been in place before the fact, there would have been a public outcry for the government’s infringement on “my rights.” Well, our laissez-faire attitude resulted in this horrific loss. The terrorists took advantage of our complacence; they watched while we danced.

Second, Ground Zero seems to be taking much too long for rebuilding and I blame this on politics. For instance, why should the little church destroyed still be waiting for rebuilding approval? That church was there since 1916, they own the property. Those skyscrapers went up around the church. Employees from the area, no matter what their faith, Christian and non-Christian, would stop in the church before going on to their workday. How many visited the church the morning of 9/11? But still, the church struggles to be rebuilt. Why? Because of, in my opinion, political football.

So, I feel these 10 long years have proven to be another injustice to the working man and woman who lost their lives that infamous day. In spite of all this, however, their memorial is waiting, the church will be built and we will all visit, reflect and pray to God we and the world never again experience a 9/11.

God Bless.

LORETTA JANELIS

Bluffton

THE REVELATION OF SEPT. 11

My business presentation to a major prospect had just been concluded when the receptionist suddenly interrupted. What could be more important than my closing arguments? Something about a crisis in New York. We followed her to the lobby and focused attention on a wall-mounted screen that showed a smoldering tower. As one, we gasped in horror as the second tower was struck. Laptop in tow, I left in haste and drove directly home. I cried as I watched the towers descend, all thoughts of a business deal gone, and realized from that moment everything would change. During the ensuing months Americans, and friends of America throughout the world, came together and demonstrated an amazing solidarity. Today, as we struggle with the lingering war and difficulties at home I reflect on that revelation of national pride and love for one another. I know it lies just beneath the surface, ready to be summoned, and at our call it will rise again.

MICHAEL J RAYMOND

Bluffton

THE MIRACLE OF SEPTEMBER ELEVENTH

On Sept. 11, 2001, 19 men chose to fly,

And turn commercial airplanes into missiles in the sky,

Angry men with broken hearts, and an angry view of God,

Who sought to wreak destruction, and destroy the land we love.

What was their evil goal, on this tragic fateful day?

That 50,000-plus should die in the World Trade Center’s bay,

Five or ten thousand more should perish at the Pentagon,

Thousands more would likewise die if the Capital was gone.

They took control of airliners, and forced them where to go,

To the place we know today as New York’s Ground Zero,

They struck their targets with deadly aim and demonic accuracy,

And in their dying breaths, they were hoping they would see:

Huge skyscrapers split and shatter and crumble to the ground,

Killing all who worked inside and many more all around,

Towers lean and tumble in a horrible production,

Taking out more buildings and lives in a great mass of destruction.

But something unplanned happened; the buildings did not fall,

They billowed deadly smoke, but stood there straight and tall,

They shook and swayed and rumbled as they took the deadly blow,

But they did not lean and tumble as they terrorists had hoped.

An hour or two they lingered, while thousands safely fled,

Until they had made it out and to the ground had sped,

Heroes rushed up the stairs to help save many more,

Before the fire inevitably brought the buildings to the floor.

In Washington the plane hit, but the Pentagon didn’t crumble,

It took the massive impact, but only one section tumbled,

The rest stood strong and firm as rescuers hustled in,

To save the lives of many trapped in the rubble within.

Flight 93 was likewise set to take the Capital Building out,

When brave men rushed the cockpit with a fury and a shout,

“Let’s roll!” they cried as they chose to give their lives,

To stop the crime in progress so innocents wouldn’t have to die.

The Miracle of September Eleventh is the plan that fell so short,

Of the massive scale of murder that was its author’s hope,

Fifty to seventy thousand men and women were that day supposed to die,

But only three thousand lost their lives from the missiles in the sky.

Now every life lost is an aguish beyond compare,

And many who perished were rescuers who didn’t have to be there,

But much worse had been the plan on this fateful day,

Tens of thousands did not perish, but all their lives were saved.

Let’s pause to remember all those who sadly lost their lives,

And the grief that hit their families, and the tears that filled their eyes,

Let’s give thanks to the heroes, who never stopped to think,

That they may not survive the day as they rushed into the brink.

And let’s remember just as well our men and women true,

Who have since gone forth to battle to defend both me and you,

They have risked their lives daily, and many have given their all,

To assure our land is safe again, and buildings shall not fall.

But things could have been much worse on September the Eleventh,

But somehow a Guiding Hand reached down from the heavens,

And held up walls and buildings so thousands could escaped,

And live to tell the whole wide world the horrors that they braved.

We pause today to remember the traumas of that day and hour,

But we should also give our thanks that somehow a Higher Power,

Was there to stop the evil and hold much of it at bay,

So that tens of thousands who should have died are with us still today.

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